David Brin - The Practice Effect

“Dennis, I can go on. Really.” Linnora sat up, but her slender body began to sway almost at once. “I think I ca—” Her eyes rolled upward and Dennis caught her.

“Give a yell if the army comes,” he told Arth as he gathered her into his arms. He stood up unsteadily and managed to nudge the door open with his foot. It creaked loudly.

Dust was everywhere inside the house. Dennis could almost feel the love and taste Stivyung Sigel and his wife had practiced into this home, and now it was well on its way to reverting to a hovel of sticks and thatch and paper.

He wondered what had become of the tall farmer, and Gath, the bright young lad who had wanted to be a wizard’s apprentice. Did they survive their adventure in the balloon? Was Sigel even now searching for his wife in the forests of the L’Toff?

Dennis carried Linnora down a narrow hallway to the Sigels’ bedroom and laid her gently on the bed. Then he half collapsed into a chair nearby.

“Jus’ gimme a minute,” he mumbled. Exhaustion was like a heavy blanket weighing him down. Once he tried to get up but failed.

“Aw, hell.” He looked at the young woman now sleeping peacefully nearby. “This isn’t the way it’s supposed to work the first time the hero gets the beautiful Princess into bed…”

In his half sleep, Dennis’s mind wandered. He found himself thinking about Pix and the robot… imagining how a passerby would have seen them some weeks back, the little pink creature with the bright green eyes, and its companion, the alien machine, together invading the human-filled streets of Zuslik, scuttling among the roofs and culverts, spying on the denizens of the town.

No wonder there had been rampant rumors of “devil-spawned critters” and ghosts.

Linnora had told him that the “Krenegee beast” shared with humans the ability to imbue a tool with Pr’fett, yet they weren’t tool users themselves, nor apparently even truly sentient.

Sometimes a wild Krenegee established a long-term rapport with a human being. When this happened the human’s practice became tremendously powerful. A month’s improvement might be accomplished in a few hours’ time. Even the L’Toff, whose mastery of the art of practice was unsurpassed, could not match the accomplishments of a man accompanied by a Krenegee, especially if the combination resulted in an occasional true practice trance.

But the Krenegee were notoriously fickle. A human counted himself lucky if he saw one once in his lifetime. A rare person who made lasting acquaintance with one was called a maker of the world.

Dennis imagined the pixolet roaming the city roofs on the back of an automaton, pushing it ever toward perfection at its programmed function—a function Dennis had originally given it. The results had been amazing.

Fickle Pix might be, but Dennis had wronged it in calling it a useless creature.

He couldn’t help feeling guilty over the robot, though he knew he shouldn’t. He saw it in his imagination, bravely holding off the guards on the night of their escape.

Dennis slumbered fitfully, dreaming of green and glowing red eyes, until a hand came down to shake his shoulder.

“Dennizz!” The hand shook him. “Dennizz! Wake up!”

“Whazzat?...” Dennis sat up quickly. “What is it? Soldiers?”

Arth was a silhouette in the dim room. He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I heard voices out on the road, but no animals. I scooted before they opened the gate.”

Dennis got up heavily and went over to look through a gap in the curtains. The dusty, yellowed window looked out on the farmyard. At the right edge of his field of vision he saw a flicker of movement. There were footsteps on the wooden porch.

The only way out was through the living room; they would have to face whoever it was. And the three of them weren’t fit to take on a pack of drugged Cub Scouts.

He motioned Arth over behind the door and picked up a small chair. The footfalls were in the hall now.

The latch slid and the bedroom door squeaked slowly open. Dennis raised the chair high.

He swayed and almost overcompensated when the door swung wide to reveal a stocky, middle-aged woman. She saw Dennis and gasped as she hopped back at least four feet, almost knocking over a small boy behind her.

“Wait!” Dennis called.

The woman grabbed the boy’s arm, dragging him frantically for the front door. But the small figure resisted.

“Dennz! Ma, it’s only Dennz!”

Dennis put down the chair and motioned for Arth to stay put. He hurried down the hall after them.

The woman paused uncertainly at the open front door. Her grip was white on the arm of the young boy Dennis had met early in his stay on this world. Dennis stopped at the hallway entrance, his empty hands raised.

“Hello, Tomosh,” he said quietly.

“’lo, Dennzz!” Tomosh said happily, though his mother yanked him back when he tried to come forward. Suspicion and fear still filled her eyes.

Dennis tried to remember the woman’s name. Stivyung had mentioned it several times. Somehow, he had to convince her he was a friend!

He sensed movement behind him.

Damn Arth! I told him to stay back! One more strange man in the house will be enough to spook this woman!

Mrs. Sigel’s eyes opened wide. But instead of fleeing, she sighed.

“Princess!”

Dennis turned and couldn’t help blinking a little himself. Even with disheveled hair, sleepy-eyed and standing on bloody, bare feet, Linnora managed to look regal. She smiled graciously.

“You are right good woman, though I don’t believe we have ever met. I must thank you for the hospitality of your beautiful home. My gratitude, and that of the L’Toff, are yours for all your days.”

Mrs. Sigel blushed, and curtsied awkwardly. Her face was transformed, no longer hard at all. “My home is yours, your Highness,” she said shyly. “An” your friends, of course. I only wish it were more presentable.”

“To us, it is as fine as the greatest palace,” Linnora assured her. “And far nicer than a castle where we have recently been.”

Dennis took Linnora’s arm to help her to a chair. She caught his eye and winked.

Mrs. Sigel made a great fuss when she saw the condition of the girl’s feet. She hurried to a corner of the room and pried up a floorboard to reveal a hidden larder. She brought out clean, decades-old linen and a jar of salve. She insisted on immediately attending to Linnora’s blisters, pushing Dennis to one side gently but irresistibly.

The boy Tomosh came over and hit Dennis affectionately on the leg, then began a torrent of eager, uncoordinated questions. It took ten minutes for Dennis to get around to telling Mrs. Sigel that he had last seen her husband two hundred feet in the air, riding a great balloon.

Eventually he had to explain what in the world a “balloon” was.

“We could try to arrange a hiding place for you here,” Surah Sigel told Dennis much later, after the others had gone to bed. “It’d be dangerous for sure. The Baron’s mobilized the militia, an’ his men will be back here again soon. But we could give it a try.”

Surah looked as if she had little faith in her own suggestion. Dennis already knew what the problem was.

“Sniffers,” he said simply.

She nodded reluctantly. “Yah. Kremer’ll have them out in force, huntin’ for you. Sniffers can find a man anywhere by his scent, given ’nuff time.”

Dennis had seen a kennel of the big-nosed animals while he resided in the castle. They looked like distant relatives of dogs, but Dennis could think of no real analogs on Earth.

They were slower than bloodhounds But had three times the sensitivity. Arth had told him there were ways to stymie sniffers in town, but out in the country they were unstoppable.